Venificus Battle Chronicles
by Muzafar
Summary: Set in Tom Riddles youth, this story revolves around one boy, Alex Michigan, and his friends, Mark and Davy, who have to protect the first ever Michigan family heirloom chosen to be an horcrux by Tom, eventually leading to a minor battle like OOTP.
1. Prologue: The Ritual

PROLOGUE

A foreboding mist crept over the ever-sleeping city of Venificus as a raven swept past a tree, and into the wood. The soil was wasted; grew on it weeds and yellow grass. Short remains of dead plants stood their guard over the weeds in the parched soil, as it cracked and drifted along with the mild, creeping wind. Standing on the ground were ten-foot long tombstones, engraving the names of their owners. Many stood tall, untouched. But others stood fallen, with weeds growing about them. Perched on a marble tombstone surrounded by long, parched grass was the raven, black as granite, a cunning look dwelled in its eye. It seemed almost human as it seemed to stare at the tombstones with relish. A few paces away from the tombstone stood a small, thick tree with dying branches and crisp, dry leaves. Underneath the scarcely sheltering branches danced a bright fire. The raven stared at it for a while; and then took off into the night.

On the other end of the graveyard, a dark figure stood silently, leaning on a falling tombstone. As the faint moonlight shone on it, its attire came into view. The visitor was dressed in a long, black cloak that swept across the weeds. The cloak was hooded, so as to conceal the face. A long, ebony wand protruded out of the sleeve of the cloak, as the hand on the inside clenched it with readiness. The visitor feebly advanced towards the little light he could see, atleast eleven tombstones away. Slowly skulking over the dead city, the visitor scraped against the soil, gripping at a bulge near the right end of his cloak. The light was close now; it was a fire. And standing by it were two other dark figures, dressed in the same long, black cloaks. They seemed to have noticed this visitor, and gripped their wands, prepared to defend themselves.

"It is me, Oberon", said the visitor. Out came a boy's voice, its very note menacing to the core. Out of the sleeve came out slowly a thin, sickly hand. Its fingers bony and long, its nails cracked. It advanced toward the hood, and slid it off. A face shone in the fire-light.

A long, hooked bulbous nose protruded outwards, almost rudely. Two small, cunning eyes, madly staring, seemed to adjust to the light. The boy's thin face was haunting, as it grinned underneath a wild moustache.

"Has the ritual begun?" he said, with an air of sarcasm to his voice.

"We shall start when the fire is larger, incase you would prefer a premature result?" said one of the hooded figures, it was also a boy.

"Mulciber, it is? Has not the Dark Lord taught you any respect for superiors?" said Oberon, a malevolent grin full of malice, distorting his already hideous face.

"If this is what you want, Sir…" said Mulciber. He raised his wand at the fire, and said, "Semino!" spitting jets of white light shot out of the end of his wand and hit the fire with a loud bang. The fire turned red.

"You may continue…" said Oberon imperiously, giving the other a patronizing look.

Mulciber perched next to fire, and started to chant. A mesmerizing chanting that rang almost like a song. He chanted with passion, he chanted with faith. The fire turned black, and then faded away, leaving the graveyard dark and cold. Out of the remains of twigs, weeds and pieces of wood formed a dark sapphire whisp of smoke, transforming into a short rotund figure, sapphire too, which whimpered and fled into the dark.

"Our work is done, sir…" said the other figure, revealing yet another boy's voice.

Oberon seemed to shiver. "Behold…" he said, his voice shaking. "The Orbis".


	2. A Fleeing Maiden

A FLEEING MAIDEN

A young girl tossed her wet, auburn hair as she ran in towards a wood; her beautiful eyes glimmered in the light of the silver moon. She quickened her pace as she saw a boy running behind her, his pace faltering as he shouted breathlessly, "Alaina! Alaina! Wait!"

"Go back Alexius! You can't stop me!" replied the girl, looking back worriedly and running straight towards the wood. Her breaths were heavy, and she clasped a metal trinket to her chest.

"Alaina! At least tell me where you're going!" cried the boy from behind; he had now reached up to the quickly slowing Alaina. He said, panting. "Where are you going, you've only just arrived!" "I have to go…it's important. Please…let go!" said Alaina, she was unfocused, and determined. Her eyes fought a battle to avoid Alexius's wild staring ones.

"Why are you not wearing a shirt…?" said Alaina, a clearly disturbed look in her eyes.

"Well, that's quite simple…you have it!" said Alexius, pointing his finger towards a white bundle of linen cloth clasped in Alaina's slender left hand. She tightened her grip on it.

"I'll need that!" she said, and turned away, bounding off into the night.

Alexius ran after her. What was she up to? This was most unexpected. And why did she want his shirt? And what was that clasped in her other hand? He ran faster than ever.

"Alaina stop!" he cried, but she did not. She swiftly ascended into the wood, panting.

She tripped over a rock and fell forward, face down. Out of her right hand slipped a shiny, silver necklace. Alexius fixed his eyes on it, it was mesmerizing. It's slender, twisting chain extended to a circular silver pendant with a triangular rune carved on the inside, a crystal studded chain ran along a hole in the bottom of the pendant, and dangled from a welded circle of steel a beautiful, but deadly golden dagger. Its handle shimmered as if it were an entity on its own; its large emerald stud shone with a magic eternal, and the blade glimmered with a menacing glint of scarlet. It was a Michigan family heirloom.

Alaina seemed to have noticed that she had fallen, and slowly started to get up. She felt her own palm and realized she had lost her trinket too. She turned around and leapt at Alex, making a grab for the dagger, but he managed to slip out of her emerging grasp.

"Been stealing, have you?" said Alexius. He knew she had something else up her sleeve, she wasn't a thief. After all, being the daughter of the Minister of Magic had to count for something. She looked at him reproachfully.

"Now Alaina…if only you told me what you were up to, I would let you go. And now I have your little prize too!" Alexius was taunting Alaina, but she did not seem amused.

"Alex, please! Give that back to me! I have to leave now…I'll have to. If I don't…all of us will be in grave danger!" Alaina seemed to be pleading earnestly.

"And why will all of us be in grave danger?" said Alexius, clearly very annoyed.

"Well…because Tom wants it!" she seemed to be struggling hard to escape the truth.

"Tom?" said Alexius, confused. "Who's Tom?" he looked at Alaina, waiting for answer. But she appeared to have made her decision. "Who are you talking about?"

Alaina seemed to be fighting back the truth, she looked guilty, but obliged all the same.

A sudden piercing realization hit Alexius sharp on his mind, and his true senses began to tingle. He felt his heart jolt as he was gifted with an intuition. He looked into Alaina's eyes. "Tom Riddle?" he said. Alaina answered with her eyes, "Yes", it seemed.

"But why? What does he want with our family heirloom?"

"I cannot tell you! You have to give me that! Alaina now sounded threatening.

"No!" Alex argued.

"Alex, please…!"

"First you tell me each and everything about all of this! What has Tom Riddle got to do with this dagger?"

"I told you, I cannot tell you!" said Alaina, and before she had a chance, she whipped out her shining ivory wand from the sheath that was tied onto her silvery, shimmering dress.

"Accio dagger!" she cried with desperation, and Alex felt his grip loosen as the beautiful dagger, chain, pendant and all drifted off his palm and into Alaina's.

"You must understand" she said. "Trust me".

Her eyes glinted in the faint, moonlight, piercing through his, as if she was trying to touch his mind with reassurance. A shimmering glow exuded from her, as if she carried with her a light of her own. Her hair was dripping wet, yet every drop of water that seeped onto her shoulder was mesmerizing. _She holds herself with grace, _thought Alexius, as he stared into her deep, blue eyes. With one sway of her hair, she said.

"I have to go now. Take care"

Alexius watched her turn around, turn on the spot and with a swish of her silvery night-gown, disappear. He only began to realize how cold it was, and how much he felt it without his shirt. Another intrigue, why had she taken his shirt away from him?

He began to walk back out of the woods and home. He realized that he had followed Alaina quite far, atleast half a field away. So he took the shorter road back to the house, from between the wheat field of his farmer, Mr. Nuzzlenut. He faced the troubles of the night. What had caused all this? Why had Tom Riddle, a boy who was never up to anything good, asked for the dagger? And why was Alaina so determined to get it to him, at this hour of the night? He looked down at his golden watch; it was 3 o' clock in the morning. According to his neighbor and family friend, Antonius Gaspard, this was the witching hour at which most evil and dark rituals were performed by dark wizards. It was a formidable hour, an hour no decent wizard or witch should roam the land in.

The wind that lagged behind him was of a perilous sort. It carried with it the scent of trouble, and he understood. He sensed the times changing as he walked onto the stone path that led to the Michigan House.


End file.
